If I could rewind
by Neurofuzzy
Summary: Okita Souji and Saito Hajime spend a night together. Various implications throughout and written in Saito Hajime's POV. Lemon.


If only I could rewind

* * *

The radiance of morning enters my room, enveloping every corner and nook with its intense and brilliant sunshine. I have been aware of its graceful, yet intruding presence for quite a few minutes now as I let the warmth from the light spread over my body. My loose strands tangle between my fingers and I realize my hair tie had been stolen. _By him. _Forcing myself to sit upright, the light meets my bare chest at full impact as my nebulous hair rests against my back, in all its unkempt glory.

My vision remains blank and dull as I decide not to recognize the sunlight's omniscient aura. I pull the covers over my head, engulfing myself in darkness once more. In doing so, I realize the mobility under the sheets as I maneuver myself in the futon. I stretch my arms and place my palm on the space next to mine.

It's empty, yet still has a lingering scent and remaining warmth upon it. The one that was present only hours before. Not a single trace of last night's rendezvous is left. Discarded clothing, socks, swords, all cleaned up without a trace. The only thing that remains is my own garment, folded neatly next to my side. My fingertips grasped the sheets tightly, hoping to even touch the sheets that had touched him. They clench and ball up in vain. All these tangible things are erased so effortlessly from the room.

Yet, at least, the memory of last night is forever engraved vividly inside my head.

Repeating itself over and over.

* * *

His body presses against mine through the frustrating clothing that keeps our flesh barricaded from each other. Everywhere he touches, my skin flinches ever so slightly at the connection. He intertwines his fingers in my hair, forcing my face to meet his. Those rough hands that constantly hold the sword in its sheath, surprisingly gentle and comforting upon my scalp. His other hand traces the line of my lips slowly; I can feel the calloused skin tickling my parting lips. "You need to soften that piece of sandpaper you're touching me with." Emitting a low chuckle, his usual forest eyes now glint an ominous bloody hue in response. That gaze, piercing inside of me, aware of my every secret. Frightening at the sight, yet enticing my soul ever so.

He shifts his focus from my lips to my ear lobe and whispers, "Can you feel my hot breath linger over you? It's making your ear flush into a beautiful pink hue. What an adorable part of you I have yet to claim. Yet you seem to always be claiming hers..." He nibbles at it playfully, causing me to release an unintended moan. But the teasing act transforms into an act of possession. Though it is all fun and play for him, he has yet to realize how much I have fallen for him, come to depend on him, yearn for him. Involuntarily as his face licks my neck very casually, I find my own fingers interlocking behind his head; pressing his lips against the sensitive skin even more. The increased friction causes me to shiver with sensitivity. My actions. Have they been understood by you?

As his fingers caress my innermost flesh underneath the folds of my clothes, I am unprepared for this sort of intimate intrusion. My instinctual reaction is to yelp out in shock, quick to find myself muffled by his own lips. Harsh against soft melds into a perfectly interlocking and I find myself drowned in lust. Such horrid thoughts I have yet to even see in a woman, much less a man. I feel my cheeks moisten and he is aware of it as well. His savior's hand first caresses my head then delivers my body, my soul, safely into his lap. This closeness of his breath, his visage, seeing all the glory of my vulnerability. I try to shy away, well aware that it is much to late for that. His steady hand against my lower back keeps me steady.

"You have evaded me so many times before, but tonight, I am not letting you go." Our eager bodies finally feel one another, trembling at the immense heat against one another. I quiver still at his familiar touch upon my unexplored and unfamiliar places. Just as I was becoming situated, an immense intrusion enters my body. I want to scream and pull myself away. But he wraps my legs around his waist even tighter, sealing my once chaste fate. My head is so dazed and dizzy, my eyes hazed over in ecstasy; I cannot even discern between pleasure and pain anymore. _Hold me tighter, embrace me longer, never let go. _Yearning and panting lips crash hungrily towards each other once more. Tasting each other fully, inside and out, we wrestle with one another.

His hand fingers my chest and travels up and down my abdomen. _Whatever you do, just don't touch my-_ I trembled. Fingertips against my intense heat, fondling. I start to shy away from his kiss and respond to his touch. "Hey, don't forget that I am here as well." He shifts his hips sharply and I respond with a shocked moan. My body is tightening, responding on cue to his sensual grasps.

Flipping me over, now with my arms on the ground, he pushes himself into me like no tomorrow. His sweat ridden chest melts on my back; our body temperatures soar and ignite. His heavy breath pants heavily against my neck and I know its coming to an end. I reach behind me and find his face and turn myself to meet his. What audacity I have come to.

Pressing chest to chest, fingers interlinked with fingers, lips pressed to lips, and heat quivering against heat. We are finally one. Finally connected.

* * *

I remain motionless, stoic and trapped in time as everything else flows right past me. The morning bird calls, blooming flower buds, the wake of wind's noiseless call, while I remain, forever stuck in the past.

I refrain from opening my eyes once more; else I will increase the tears. This is such a common thing, yet why do I still shed tears? I have seen the depths of hell and the countless lifeless bodies surrounding me. Even then I never cried. But just for this one man, I am crying my heart out. It hurts. It hurts so much.

M_orning, you have finally taken him captive. So Night, please hurry up and come soon to take me away. _I hate this morning not because it erased the memories of the night before...but because it is frightful to wake up all alone.

Last night was bittersweet nostalgia. Because I realized to late that it is something that I will never be able to create again. Why did I end up falling in love with you? I knew our time was short, yet still we pursued.

Why didn't I have the confidence to simply kiss you in public? Why didn't I sit by your bedside and feed you my meals on a cold winter day? Why couldn't I respond kindly to any of your jokes even when I knew they meant no harm. And the most regretful of all, I truly wonder why I had never even said even once that "I loved you?"

Hear me out now. I will always love you. My first and final paramour.


End file.
